Happy 2014, I shall lazily recap 2013

Bet you thought I was dead huh? No, truth is, I'm just a shitty blogger whose writing can't keep up with his stomach. After 5 years of writing - okay, that's cheating, I really only wrote for half of last year - it kind of gets tedious and repetitive. What started out as a cheap ploy to get people to pay for my food and invite me to press events turned into a chore. Don't get me wrong, 2013 was filled with all sorts of 'sensual encounters with the edible kind.' I discovered some of my favorite restaurants in 2013, but every time I'd sit down and try to edit photos or write a post, I'd look at how large my backlog was and start rocking myself back and forth, crying, shoving cold Domino's pizza in my mouth. You might think that's hyperbole, but it's really not. I truly enjoy cold and shitty generic pizza. Anyway, as some sort of small semblance of apology to the three people who read my blog still (Hi Mom!), let me recap 10... uh, no that's too ambitious... 6 things that made me wet my pants with excitement. Food things.



1) Hot pot. Or maybe you call it shabu shabu, I don't really care. Hot pot was a big theme for me in 2013... it was my fallback comfort meal. Didn't know where to eat on the weekend? Hot pot. Had a cold and needed to clear my sinuses? Hot pot. Wanted to drown my sorrows in a pot of boiling broth and cabbage? Yeahhh, hot pot. It's not like I was unaware that hot pot existed... I am Chinese and I've definitely huddled with my family around a small butane burner before, but something changed last year. Hot pot was no longer that frumpy girl in the corner I tried to avoid eye contact with, no - hot pot came back from Summer vacation as a total hottie. I had a sexual awakening of sorts, but with food. That said, there's one place that I've found is just better than the others. A place that offers individual pots so you don't have to share spit with a bunch of people who might or might not have oral herpes. A place that offers nine different soup bases (including soy milk). This magical place is called Shell Cove, and it's in Elmhurst. Don't you dare ruin it for me.



2) Cronuts. People said they were overrated, that they weren't worth the two hour wait (when they first came out), that this was more a gimmick than anything else. To be honest, that assessment is fuckin' spot on. In terms of cost efficiency, something that I can kill in four bites shouldn't cost $6, but you know what? They're good. Like, really good. When you hear the intricate process that Dominique Ansel takes to make each one - brushing each layer with chilled grape seed oil and layering it over the course of several hours - you get overwhelmed by a huge vibe of 'straight up douche.' Then you have one and you realize that what you're eating is actually an incredible combination of texture, flavor, and sheer gluttony... that it actually is a fantastic doughnut made in the style of a croissant, flaky and rich all at once. When I started trying the imitation versions - like Crumb's - it became even more obvious that Dominique Ansel is a goddamn genius. Yeah it's a ripoff, but he pulls it off.



3) Donairs in Nova Scotia - when you hear the term gyro, you normally think of a giant meat spinning on a spit that's spiced beyond belief and should be consumed while incredibly drunk. In Nova Scotia, it's... pretty much the same. Except the meat is generally beef and instead of being fucked in the face with cumin and friends, it's sweet, almost like a slice of Italian sausage, but with the same smooth consistency that you'd expect. Combined with a pillowy pita, that same classic tzatziki, and some other filler crap (I honestly can't recall what other stuff got in the way of me and that sweet, sweet meat), and you have something that Sidney Crosby likely deep-throated many-a-times as a youth in Maritime Canada, a wrap worthy of soaking up the finest of alcohols on the most questionable of nights.



4) Peanut Butter Burgers in Nova Scotia. Yeah, it's another entry from Canada - the hat of America, why? Because they're chock full of hidden gems, having produced such luminaries such Ryan Gosling, and such inventions as 'the egg carton' and 'instant replay.' In another clutch move, some visionary (undoubtedly freezing his ass off in the winter) decided to slather a thick layer of peanut butter on a bun before sandwiching in bacon, cheese, and beef, masterfully constructing what has become a Nova Scotian favorite, the peanut butter bacon cheeseburger.



5) Pho Hoa in Boston. Have you ever ordered so much food from a takeout place that they put multiple sets of utensils in the bag? Yeah, the feels when: your meal for one gets interpreted as a family feast for four. Well, there's this restaurant in Boston called Pho Hoa. They do a Vietnamese 7 course beef meal. I'm not sure if it's for a family or not, but when they pushed together two tables to accommodate all the accoutrements of the meal, I had one of those 'what the fuck did I just do moments.' As they brought out plate after plate of various preparations of beef - yes there were indeed 7 - I went from feeling like 'this is an incredible deal' to 'uhm, should I be ashamed of myself' to 'yeah, so this was one of the greatest things ever.' Like I said, you'll feel a swelling feeling of shame, but if you hold on for the entirety of the roller coaster experience, that will gradually fade into a crescendo of euphoria. Or food coma, I can't really think after I've shoved half a cow into my mouth. Choice wording.



6) Korean barbecue in LA - more specifically this place called 'Oo Kook.' That means cow country, that's how you know that shit is tight *drops mic*.



7) North Dumpling in Chinatown. Once upon a time, I loved this other place called Prosperity Dumpling. Then they started getting noticed, people would start adding them too food crawls, their popularity skyrocketed. Along with their new found popularity came an unexpected price increase (and sassiness from the main guy at the counter). Without going into too much detail, the fact that they were now 5 for $1.25 meant that I would get to eat 200 less dumplings per year prorated at my normal rate of consumption. Along with the assclown hipster clientele / deterioration in service came random batches of dumplings that weren't made do order (no doubt pre-made to cope with the increase in volume). In comes North Dumpling, a place I had forgotten about as they lie in the Far East... uh, side of Chinatown. While they have a $2 for 10 minimum, and the trek is ever so slightly longer, you'll be rewarded with a superior dumpling experience - freshly fried dough pockets of meat, with a pork filling just a hint sweeter than you normally encounter. Also, no hipsters for the time being.

Anyway, I'll write... uh, more... this year. I guess that's an easy promise to keep, since I didn't really write at all last year. Setting low goals since 1988, go me.
Read more...

Dat roast pork sandwiches (Taylor's Gourmet)

If you've read my blog consistently - which admittedly is probably pretty difficult lately given my ass-clown posting frequency - you probably realize I have no real love lost for Philadelphia. Most of my memories about the city are pretty shitty. Philly drivers are entirely assholes towards cyclists, and while the riding is absolutely sick - I had more than a few close encounters with cars, the 'subway' system smells like cat pee and weird handsoap, and the city all-in-all shuts down at 10 pm unless you plan on getting hammered as if you were stuck in colonial times. Freakin' Quakers. That said, to be entirely fair - it's also home to a dope-ass Korean-Japanese food truck that pimps a bulgogi cheesesteak (with the nicest old couple running shit ever) and a couple of the best burgers I've eaten in my short cholesterol-laden life (which is actually serious praise considering how many burgers I put away thus far)... but most of it is shitty. That said, one area that Philly absolutely killed at was sandwiches. Maybe it's all the old-fashioned Italian delis... or maybe it's all fo the old-fashioned Italian bakeries churning out some seriously sensual bread fumes... but mash those two components together and you have something absolutely magical. One of the few things I legitimately miss about Philadelphia: Italian roast pork sandwiches.



Look at that rod of hot Italian pork. Not unlike Gary Oak - this is a sandwich where you "can't ignore its girth." Don't be deceived by the generic deli look here - the amount of meat packed inside the core of the baguette is unbelievable - it's almost as if someone hollowed out the bread beforehand to violate the center pocket with an additional quantity of pork. I don't remember how much it was (it has been over a year since I've eaten one of thes fuckers), but I would most certainly pay a bounty of gold to taste that sweet porcine folded meat right now. Goddamn.



There's something distinctly indescribable about the flavor combination in these sandwiches. Roast pork au jus, a very distinctively sharp provolone, garlicy olive-oil laden broccoli rabe, and a seeded hoagie - there's absolutely no complexity in the construction, but the depth of flavor it brings is like getting punched in the face while wearing braces. Except in a good way. Less painful, more delicious. Taylor's Gourmet manages to deliver on nostalgia like a boss. Their roast pork is as moist as my pants just thinking about it, the bread softer and fluffier than Jigglypuff. Shit... that's soft. Despite the their location in Washington DC, they've forgotten absolutely nothing about the OG roots that make this sandwich the crown tit's of Philadelphia (honestly, it deserves to be held in higher regard than the cheesesteak). Good on ya' bros.

tl;dr - writing this post reminded me of how much I think Philadelphia sucks. Except for the food, they got that shit locked down. In spite of how much their subway system smells like a delightfully pungent combination of homeless pee and cheap handsoap, I think they're really good at making roast pork sandwiches. Taylor Gourmet makes them pretty good.

Taylor Gourmet
485 K St NW Washington, DC 20001
Read more...

Cambodian sandwiches and dolphin rape (Num Pang)

For those of you who have been waiting with bated breath for me to kick the inevitable bucket from heart disease... sorry. I'm still around. Just so busy with work and shiz that I haven't really been able to spew nonsense from the second butthole that is my mouth to your ears (and by extension, from my fingers to your eyes). Anyway, a couple of months ago... Tia, Danny, and myself convened at Num Pang, this tiny little Cambodian sandwich shop near Union square, for lunch. Sandwiches and pleasantries were had, but we also discussed a topic that most of you probably aren't aware of yet - a gross injustice in this world that's been overlooked and ignored - I'm talking about... dolphin rape. Imagine this: you're swimming so carefree in the sea, when suddenly... a biker gang rolls up... except, instead of badass bikers with crazy beards and names like "Moshpit" and "Bartholomew," you're accosted by dolphins. What do they want? Fuck if I know what their motives are, but instead of frolicking around like you always see in the movies, you're quickly whisked away to their secret underwater cave where you're emotionally and physically violated by something you always thought of as friends. Fuck you Flipper.

What in the shit does this have to do with Num Pang and Cambodian sandwiches? Well, not unlike the heinous crime that is... *dramatic pause*... dolphin rape, the fact that Cambodian sandwiches haven't been pimped harder, and have largely been kept a secret in the past, is a serious injustice. These combinations of bread, meat, and vegetables are synergistic boners for your tastebuds and deserve every bit as much praise as most assclown food bloggers nutted over banh mi a few years back. I mean, goddamn, just look at their menu. Five-spice glazed pork belly sandiwch? GG for everyone who loves pork.



Just look at that glaze. Dat glaze *bites lip*. At first, I kept thinking "fuck this, why am I paying close to $8 for this sandwich when I could easily get two of the aforementioned banh mi from Banh Mi Saigon...?" That was shortly before I bit into the magical creation you see above. Sometimes quality transcends cost (this is not a universal truth, just for things under $10), and in a case like the five-spice pork belly sandwich from Num Pang... it's definitely true. While I won't haul my ass downtown just to have one - ninja edit, yes I would - if I'm in the area? I'd be perfectly okay with spending $8 on this shit. Dope as hell. "Shut up about your thriftiness! Just tell us about this sandwich" you say? Prepare to cream your pants.

Built on a bready and crunchy baguette from Parisi Bakery, you get a thick slab of pork belly on top which is remarkably crunchy for something so high in fat content. On the outside of this bacon on steroids is a sweet and savory glaze that's built upon hoisin sauce and flavored with hints of five-spice. Then on top they lay the standard accouterments... cucumbers, pickled carrots, cilantro and chili mayo, but wait... there's more! As a nice finishing touch, they stack on a sliver of Asian pear, which adds a nice crunch to the texture as well as a bit of sweet tartness that only something as healthy as a fruit could provide. Listen, I'm normally the first person to tell you why fruits and healthy things suck, but it works. It really works. Is Num Pang all that it's cracked up to be? I'm not sure, but the two sandwiches I had would make me feel that way. Also, while I'm still not entirely sure how to describe how Cambodian sandwiches are supposed to be different from banh mi (clearly I'm be the best person to be listening to on this subject) - the fact that banh mi got so much ass in the Summer of '09 and no one's globalized the term num pang is fucked up. Seriously. Do your part to correct this injustice and go have a Cambodian bacon sandwich yo.

tl;dr - be extra careful when swimming in the sea (or I guess freshwater rivers too, if you're in china) you never know when a gang of biker dolphins will arrive with plans to "show you a good time." Equally scary is the fact that a lot of people don't know how sick Num Pang's sandwiches are. Almost as sick as dolphin rape.

Num Pang Sandwich Shop
21 East 12th Street, New York, NY 10003
Read more...

Bibimbap burger (Social Eatz)

In a stroke of brilliance, I'm going to capitalize on the fact that a bunch of shit is going down tomorrow in protest of SOPA - since there's nothing better to distract you from work, you might as well read my blog post. You can all eat a bag of dicks, yo. Er, I mean... Hooray?! Now that's not to say that I'm for SOPA at all, but I figure if Reddit's down, I might as well take advantage of a bad situation. Anyway, some people say that the sanctity of a burger is something that should never be tainted - people who get offended when you so much as even think of topping your patty with anything outside of cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, and onions. Those people are dumbasses. What exactly does it matter what gets shoved between the buns as long as it tastes dope? The correct answer of course is - it doesn't, as is the case with the bibimbap burger at Social Eatz. While former Top Chef contestant Angela Sosa might be something of an idiot when it comes to appropriate naming of his dishes (I see no rice in my burger, how can it be 밥?), the burger is veritably sick. In a good way, not a decrepit way.

So what exactly comprises this bread and beef mountain of retarded naming convention? A ton of random shit that doesn't make sense, but ends up tasting surprisingly pleasant. Bibimbap is usually a variety of sauteed vegetables, chili paste, a fried egg, some sort of meat, and rice. Well, all those things are present in some sort of capacity... aside from the rice, and the resulting flavor profile absolutely fills my mind full of fuck. You have an unexpected beefiness from the patty, coupled with a bit of heat from the sauce, stacked with a subtle sweetness from the vegetables. Then he goes and busts a nut on top of the whole deal with a fried egg just for good measure. Do you really notice that it's there? Not really. Does it make it better? Yes. Somehow it does.



Like a glorious unicorn shitting it's brains out, somehow this clusterfuck of a sandwich still tastes like a million bucks. Maybe it's the fact that I really like Asian food combined with the fact that I think burgers are pretty much the pinnacle of sandwiching technology, but I don't really care how it looks - it tastes like pure pain for my arteries and a sweet sweet erection for my taste buds.



Less inspired is the "Kung Pow Wow" sandwich. If it seems like this sandwich was created purely as an afterthought to fit the name, I can confirm that it pretty much tastes that way. Order kung pow chicken from any Americanized Chinese takeout joint, shove it inside a baguette, and you'll probably create something that's eerily close to this. Not that that's a bad sandwich by any stretch of the imagination, but come on bro... you're embarrassing Tom Colicchio with your lack of ingenuity. All I have to say about this is... feelsbadman.jpg. Seriously.



In a surprising twist, Social Eatz actually makes some pretty dope-ass ribs. Not that I can discern anything remotely fusion-y about them (maybe that's what makes them good?), their ribs are like straight crack in a conveniently stick-shaped form factor. Epic tender, that shit comes off the bone with minimal effort. What makes them palatable isn't simply the texture, the sauce is like liquid candy - with a sweetness so overwhelming that it can basically be a dessert dish. Is everyone going to like it? Probably not. Some buttholes might tell you that it's cloyingly sweet. Fuck them, and ignore the haters. Eat some dessert pork.

tl;dr - the internet will be pretty busted, so you're stuck with my idiotic rambling about fusion food. Social Eatz makes a pretty flantastic bibimbap burger. It has a stupid name, but what it lacks in sense, it makes up for in flavor and protein content. Also, sick-ass ribs.

Social Eatz
232 East 53rd Street, New York, NY 10022
Read more...

HK-style French toast (Cha Chan Tang)

Do you know why I gave up on my PhD so prematurely? It's because innovating shit is hard. Every time you think you've come up with some pimp-ass novel idea, you go online to Google that shit, and 10 times out of 10, I bet you some butthole in Turkmenistan has already done it. I frequently found myself thinking "fuck that guy, why didn't I think of that?" What does this stupid story about one of my life's greatest failures have to do with food? Well, the French toast that they serve at Cha Chan Tang is kinda like that. For the majority of my life, I've enjoyed my French toast the traditionally defined (and already delicious) way - simply bread that's fried in an egg-laden batter. Butter, oil, bread, and eggs... that shit was pretty dope already, when suddenly, some guy halfway around the world in Hong Kong decided "shit son. All junk tastes better when peanut butter is involved!" and proceeded to go ape-shit in the kitchen and fucked some PB between some bread, fried it, and put some syrup on top. Not just any syrup... golden maltose syrup. Why is that better? Because butter. No, seriously - hell if I know - it just is.



What treasures might hide inside that golden crust of heart disease and high cholesterol?

On the exterior, this appears to be a regular piece of French toast. Sure, it looks perfectly goldened, and yeah it looks crispier than a freshly ironed shirt, but to say that it's "slightly better than that junk that you get at IHOP" would be like slapping your mother in the face. Legitimately disrespectful to how sick this dish is... also to your mother, who is probably a lovely person. But inside this crisp, oil-drenched, butter-laden, deep-fried egg on carbohydrate love train is a dark dark secret, one full of monounsaturated and polyunsaturated fats. Ooh baby. I love it when foods get all chemically sexy and jizz.



What's really good? Peanut butter. I think they actually butter the insides of the bread (in addition to the giant pat they melt on top) before applying the peanut butter, so it's got that going for it too. Actually, to be honest, I can't really tell, because basically the entire thing is a hot mess of porous bread soaked with various types of oil products. When you that small dish of maltose syrup on top... GG, shit gets intense. Like camping. Maltose syrup has somewhat of a distinct taste and is far more viscous than the standard grade-A maple you might get from a squeeze bottle - combining it with the subtle notes of savory from the egg and the sweet saltiness of the pb makes for a strange flavor profile that's as delicious as it is confusing. Let's put it this way, it's kind of similar to how you might feel if your best friend's little sister is really attractive, but at the same time looks kind of like him, so it's as creepy as it is awesome. Exactly like that.



They also have pork chop sandwiches (obligatory G.I. Joe PSA video...). Now I'm not going to talk shit about $4 sandwich that has a pork chop inside, but I wasn't exactly as impressed with this as I was with the PB French toast. In Hong Kong, they do pork cutlet sandwiches too... which at the time I wasn't so hot on. Now, thinking back, those bitches are pretty great for $2 a piece. At Cha Chan Tang, they put healthy stuff in there. Vegetables and whatnot (WTF tomatoes). I'm not really okay with that. They also use non-buttered plain white bread, which is kind of a confusing to me since they butter the crap out of everything else. Lame. At least they cut off the crust. I guess I lied, I pretty much talked shit about this sandwich for an entire paragraph - don't get it if you go.



Apparently, people in Hong Kong also know how to cook Portuguese stuff (probably from being occupied for so long. Haha owned). There's this dish on the menu called 'Portuguese chicken casserole' which, unsurprisingly, comprises of chicken, rice, and cheese. I don't really know what else really goes into this dish, but I know when it came to the table... all I could think was "holy crap, that looks like someone took a dump over some rice and reheated it in an oven with cheese." Good thing it didn't taste that way. Flavorwise, it's like a cream of chicken blend mixed with cheese that also has hints of curry. The strong taste of spices complements the smoothness of the dairy pretty well, and I really have nothing but awesome memories of this aside from the visuals. Again, this just solidifies my unified theory of "foods that look like shit taste dope."



Have you ever had fried squid with pepper and salt? No? Wow, your life up to this point must've sucked pretty badly. This is one of those dishes that's synonymous with street food in almost all of Asia. I know Taiwan has it, and I guess Hong Kong does too. I bet Koreans love this 'ish too. It's nothing complex in execution, but there's something fantastically delicious in the simplicity. The squid itself is kind of rubbery and provides that eraser-like texture I want in all of my foods. With just a hint of seafood flavor, what you're mostly tasting is breadcrumbs doped with salt and pepper. It's kinda like eating fried chicken skin (the best part), but having something elastic to chew on at the same time. I realize this all sounds pretty stupid and probably off-putting, but I assure you it's not. Cha Chan Tang's version certainly could be better (it's neither crispy nor spiced enough), but it's adequate for satiating that slight bit of nostalgia. Additional unnecessary commentary: yes, I did start scratching shortly after consumption. Kind of worth it.

tl;dr - Innovating shit is mad hard. Good job to the guy who decided to add peanut butter to French toast. Also maltose syrup instead of maple. Maple can eat a dick. Basically, go to Cha Chan Tang and get yourself some French toast and bubble tea. Dope combination is dope.

Cha Chan Tang
45 Mott Street, New York, 10013
Read more...

Why press events are retarded (Rub BBQ)

It's cornbread inside suckling pig. Yes it was delicious, no I did not pay for it.

When I first started this writing thing I thought getting invited to press events was the epitome of baller status in the food blogosphere. You're probably thinking "wow, you're a gigantic toolbag for thinking that!" Haha... fuck you. To be entirely fair, I was a junior in college and I basically fed myself by going to random talks I didn't care about in hopes that there'd be free pizza. Shameful. If you were me, and someone told you that you could have free food in exchange for press... you'd probably piss pants in excitement too. Now that I'm a wily veteran of this demented food blogging game, I can safely say - food PR events are incredibly stupid. Why would I say that? First off, no one really invites me to these things because... well my blog doesn't get that much traffic. Am I bitter? Yes I'm bitter! Other people are eating free food that I'm not. I'm losing in this endeavor. I don't like losing. Secondly, no one else can experience the same thing as me afterward, so what's the point? Doesn't make much sense if you put it that way, right? Third, it's a zero profit system. Either I think something is awesome and I'm called a shill... or I bitch about something that's free and I'm a giant asshole for doing so. Screw that. I'm not gonna play a game where I always lose.

Now let us delve into each one of those points a little deeper shall we? About a month ago I went to some random press shindig at Rub BBQ. Naturally I was not invited, I only went because a friend of mine was, and she realized that I greatly enjoy eating things. Awesome. See why this system sucks? I don't get invited to shit because my blog doesn't get traffic. I guess that makes sense to people hosting the events, but to me that screams unfair. I take time to bitch about things online too! Why can't I get all the perks of other bloggers?*



Onto point two. These events are snapshots in time. What I experience... no one else can ever have again. Does that make any sense to anyone? See that salad above? I don't normally eat salads, but I ate that one. Know why? It was drizzled with a bacon fat vinaigrette and had bacon lardon pieces. Bitchin' salad covered in pork oil, sprinkled with rendered pork fat, and topped with a poached egg. Erotic salad is wonderful indeed. Then there were also...



Fuckin' lamb sliders. Cooked to a gentle medium rare and served with fried spicy eggplant and a mint-basil aioli. Probably one of the dopest "burgers" I've had in a long time. Here's the funny thing - you'll never have one like it! You'll never have that awesome pork flavored salad either. Sucks for you. Now I seem like an asshole right? Wrong. Press event people are the assholes. They're the ones doing this, not me.



I also ate bacon and cheese. Because that's what classy people do, I guess...?

Now this last point... this one's key. No one wins in these situations. Press events are built on the concept of good PR. Shit is free because they expect you to say good things about it, but there's also the unspoken agreement that you do say good things about it. Here's the thing, because it's free... you really can't expect jack shit from the organizers. If you decide to show up, that's on you. So what do you do? The food at Rub was pretty sick and I had no complaints, so I write good things about it. Now I'm a shill. If the food didn't meet expectations can I bitch about it? No, it doesn't work that way either because I would have to accept responsibility for being a retard and expecting something for free. Basically you're dicked either way, so... why bother? There's been a lot of beef going on lately about things at press events not living up to expectations and people getting duped... here's my take on it: calm your hormones. It's like if a dude in an unmarked van offers you candy, then you get in and get molested. That's on you bro. There are no free lunches.

tl;dr? Press events embody everything that is dumb about food blogging. It's really no more than people writing about nonsense that doesn't actually exist anymore and people expecting things from nothing.

*If you can't tell, I'm being sarcastic. I think getting free food solely on the basis of being a "Yelp Elite" or influential blogger is pretty much one of the douchiest things you could ever do.
Read more...

More reasons to hate food blogging (Bánh Mì Saigon)

Remember a while ago when I talked about how much I hate food bloggers? I bet you probably thought my 24 pack of Haterade™ had run dry, but you'd be wrong. This shit is real, this shit is happening - I'm making an addendum to my somewhat exhaustive list. Reason number - er... whatever it is, I lost count - to hate food bloggers: they're fickle-ass motherfuckers. Equipped with memory capacities only slightly better than those of common goldfish, a lot of bloggers drive food trends for a couple of months, writing fervently about a single dish or cuisine as if it were truly the apex of culinary innovation, before quickly switching to a new "golden topic" of the day. Remember when cupcakes were all the rage? Then people decided that they wanted artisan pies? Which was followed by a sudden "renaissance age" of doughnuts? Well that shit is stupid. It's not like cupcakes suddenly started tasting like stale bread frosted with crap or that pies became second-rate desserts, it's really just that people tend to have a sheep-like tendency to do the popular thing. Not me though. I'm a shark. Sharks are winners, and they don't look back because they have no necks. Necks are for sheep.

Just like bánh mì. Two years ago, there wasn't a single person who wouldn't shut up about bánh mì. Then slowly, everyone made a mass exodus to some other hot issue in the very important world of food blogging. Probably something stupid like ramps.



Now I'll be straight with you upfront - I really don't know jack shit about Vietnamese food and I really don't know that much about bánh mì... so I'm not gonna tell you some nonsense like where to go for the best one (let's be honest, everyone knows how much bs those lists are anyway). What I will do, is tell you that Bánh Mì Saigon (located in the back of a jewelry store) makes some bombin' sandwiches in general. Also they're cheap. That's always a plus in my book.



That would be $4.25 worth of sandwich. Their most popular sandwich is probably the bbq pork one. It's pretty simple really, just a plain baguette that balances a nice crispness with compliance that's sliced and stuffed. The filling is fairly... subtle. The roast pork is a loose ground meat mix that's semi-sweet, semi-savory, and relatively tender while possessing an unexpected crusting from the cooking process. Combined with cucumbers, radishes, cilantro, carrots, and all the standard accouterments (don't ask me what else goes inside)... this is a pretty damn tasty sandwich. With the cucumber slivers, daikon, and cilantro there's a certain refreshing lightness to the taste profile, and with the roast pork, pate, and mayo-ish sauce there's definitely a contrasting dense part to the equation. When added together and put on fresh bread? It's like seeing baby unicorns prancing across rainbow bridges suspended on puffy clouds - goddamn magical.

In closing, I'm actually gonna throw some more salt in your game by giving you a bonus reason to hate food bloggers. They steal shit. All the time. Ideas, content, photos... you name it. I wasn't actually gonna write this post for a few weeks, but you know what spurred me on? When I found out some asshat on Tumblr jacked my photo. My copyrighted photo. That little 'c' in a circle on Flickr? That means you should probably ask my permission before posting my shit on your demented blog. Just because you posted my Flickr username doesn't mean you credited me, it just means you just have the slightest bit of moral sense to admit that you didn't take the photo yourself. You're probably thinking, "bro you should chill out, you download shit all the time... what's one photo in the grand scheme of things?" Well first of all, it's not exactly an isolated incident. People take my photos all the time without asking. It's the fact that they don't even respect my content enough to at least ask to paste it all over the internet. What really boils my britches though, is the fact that the photo in question now has 2400+ pageviews. Pageviews that asswipe-content-stealer got that should've been going to me. Fuck this. I don't take pictures so other people get praised for shit. I do that for me. Frustrating.

Right. So in case you didn't feel like reading all that jazz (don't know why anyone would skip my Pulitzer-caliber writing...) tl;dr - a lot of food bloggers are like sheep because they have necks. There's a tendency to follow a retarded mob mentality and to forget that newer doesn't exactly = better. Also, some food bloggers are assholes and jack content like there's no tomorrow, stealin' mah pageviews... and stuff. Finally, Bánh Mì Saigon makes really good sandwiches that all cost less than $5. It is awesome. Also you can shop for jewelry while you wait for your order.

Bánh Mì Saigon
198 Grand St, New York, NY 10013
Read more...

Pulled pork and bacon (Jake's Sandwich Board)

Sometimes I think Jewish people have things pretty sweet. Extra days to study for exams (when tests fell on religious holidays), matzah ball soup, eight days of presents - that's a whole 8x more than your average Christian family and an infinite number of times more than my family - and let's be honest... who doesn't want to have a bar/bah mitzvah? Color me green with envy. Then I think a little bit harder... and realize that for all those sweet-ass perks there is a terrible price to pay. If I were Jewish, I'd have to give up eating pork. Whoa there. Can't do it. That's not the life for me. So to all my Jewish bros and broettes out there. If you havin' bacon problems, I feel bad for you son... I got 99 problems but eatin' pork ain't one.

Enter Jake's Sandwich Board. Yes, we might've got off on the wrong foot when they set my butthole ablaze with the fury of 300 Spartans, but they definitely redeemed themselves with another of their creations... the 50/50. Half smoked bacon and half pulled pork topped with shredded provolone and a Sriracha mayo, the 50/50 is a pork lover's dream sandwich. All meat and none of that lettuce, tomatoes, and onions nonsense, this is a sandwich that doesn't fuck around with filler. All around smart dude, Ben Franklin once said that "beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy." He is wrong. Pigs are that proof. Have you ever had bacon? Have you ever had pulled pork? Sweet Jesus. If you take two of my favoritest things in the world and shove them inside a seeded hoagie roll, yeah... I'm down with that.



The bacon is thickly cut (yet surprisingly crisp). The pulled pork is moist, tender, and pure in flavor... unadulterated by an ejaculation of sauce. The combination of the two is a magical existence that rivals the beauty of tides going in and out. You can't explain that ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. It's not even that Jake's makes phenomenal roast/pulled pork (although it is pretty bitchin'), and it's not that their bacon is the stuff of legends, it's just that everything in this sandwich is... pleasant. The flavors of from each component act in a complementary manner and in general improve on the overall equation. The two kinds of pork act as contrasting elements, one salty and the other mild... one crisp and the other succulent. The provolone adds a certain twang to the taste profile while the Sriracha mayo provides for a cooling effect and also a decent spiciness in the aftertaste. I don't know what else I can say to convince you that bacon and pulled pork in a sandwich tastes awesome. It just does.

Okay, I'll admit it. I'll sort of miss you Philly, but only for your sandwiches.
Read more...

Bye Philadelphia... you make good burgers (Ladder 15)

For some stupid reason, back when I was still in high school, Penn was my dream school. Hell if I can remember why. Sure everyone shits on Cornell and Brown for being the crappy Ivies, but at least people know they're part of the Ivy League. I mean... no one confuses any of them with Penn State ~sigh. Yes, I realize how much of a pretentious asshole I sound like right now, and yes, I have since learned that choosing schools based on prestige is dumb (you realize I'm Asian right?). The point is, I really wanted to come to Penn, and I really wanted to live in Philadelphia. In hindsight, 17 year old me was a dipshit, because, let's be honest... Philadelphia kind of sucks. Everything basically shuts down at 10 pm if you're not an alcoholic, everyone is a hipster, the subway system smells constantly like a blend of hand soap and urine, the homeless people here are meaner/scarier (than the ones in NYC), and you produced M. Night Shyamalan.* Damn son... Avatar was pure crap and everyone knows it. Way to suck.

Well I guess that's not fair. Philadelphia isn't entirely worthless. Home to some seriously dope-ass cheesesteaks (and sandwiches in general), Philadelphia is the place where they signed the declaration of independence, where the finest pitching rotation since the mid-90's Braves is assembled, where the mythical "gobbler" is available year round, and most importantly... where some of my favorite burgers can be found. Like the "Burger 15" at Ladder 15.



I already wrote about this burger on AHT (it is my last post... gooooo read it), so I won't rehash the details... but here's the breakdown. The Burger 15 is $15 (how clever ಠ_ಠ) worth of brioche, a prime sirloin patty, caramelized onions, mushrooms, truffle sauce, shredded beef short rib, and... my oh my... fatty-ass bone marrow. It sounds expensive and it is expensive, but is it worth it? Yeah man. Just like I said on Serious Eats, "like eating the freshest cow available."



Look how overcooked that shit is. Not one fuck was given that day. As an aside, I'm pretty okay with not doing burger posts anymore. Not that it wasn't fun and all not having to pay for burgers, but cutting them in half was sapping a lot of the enjoyment out of my meals. But yeah, I'm usually pretty anal about medium-rare. I feel like cooking the meat properly should probably be of more importance than sourcing the finest produce available from domestic farmers (or crap like that in general). The Burger 15 apparently isn't like other girls on the block. I like it no matter how overdone it is. Despite the fact that it looks like it was prepared by a line cook at Chili's, the burger remains fantastically juicy (undoubtedly aided by a layer of marrow fat). Combined with the caramelized onions and the brioche, there exists an aftertaste of sweetness that makes this burger straddle the line between meal and dessert.



Truffle fries... truffle aioli mayo. Absolute perfection. I'm not even going to add context to that statement, because apparently it's all the rage lately to make stupid ass statements without backing it up. If you don't agree with my opinion about these fries, well you're just wrong. That's what perfect means. All joking aside, these things are pretty much the tits when it comes to fries that I've had. Structurally they possess the combination of a crisp shell with a fluffy homogeneous center. Flavor-wise, they're properly salted and drizzled with a phenomenally even coating of truffle oil. The slight sweetness of the potato vs. the herbal goodness of seasoning makes for a terrific handful of fries. Oh and that mayo? Creamed myself in excitement.

Oh yeah, so back to the main point of this whole post. Goodbye Philadelphia. I'm pretty excited about leaving you (even though I've been here less than a year). For the most part I won't miss anything since the number of good friends I've made here I can probably count on one hand. I'll admit that I will miss your ability to construct magical sandwiches out of ground beef and bread. You might be pretty shitty at almost everything that doesn't involve beer, but my god are you good at making burgers.

*please don't take me seriously for hating on Philadelphia, it's just an opinion. As for M. Night Shyamalan movies sucking major ass? That part is fact.
Read more...

The corned beef special (Koch's Deli)

I don't really go to places because other people tell me to. Part of that is because I don't really trust random peoples' food suggestions... different people have different tastes. I can respect that. Another part of that is simply because I hate having to respond to them if I don't like the food. You have to understand how hard it is for me to look a friend in the eye and go "yo, bro... that #{insert_type_of_food} place you suggested sucked serious donkey dick... like huge." Anyway, *this kid I knew, born and raised in West Philadelphia, recommended I try out the sandwiches at a Jewish Deli out on 43rd. "Totally gutbusting and delicious" he says. He spends most of his days playing hoops out there... so I trust he knows the area pretty well. I completely forget about our exchange until one day I found out that he got in a fight and his parents got scared. Turns out, he was being sent to live with his Aunt and Uncle out West in California or something. Anyway, he was a good guy so I took him up on his advice and went to Koch's Deli.

So West Philadelphia is pretty shitty. People often joke around about how people get mugged and shot there? Totally true. Except there's a magical force field called "gentrification" that limits this to the area West of 45th Street. Lucky for us, this keeps Koch's Deli in the "safe to walk to" area. Regardless of safety, Koch's is your standard hole-in-the-wall type Jewish deli. They slice the fuck out everything fresh, and your sandwich will take 30 minutes to make (even if the store is completely empty). That's fine and all because the people inside are super nice. Sure you're standing there awkwardly for god knows how long, but the entire time... the staff is probably handing you slices of fresh turkey, cheese, pickles... the works. Half your meal will basically occur while they're still constructing your sandwich.



So their menu is pretty standard I guess. They do offer some more "adventurous" combos which are really just combinations of their deli meats, and are willing to stuff pretty much whatever the fuck you want in between bread... so your choices aren't really all that limited. You'll also notice that most of the prices are $8 and up. That totally doesn't gel with my normal purchasing scheme (since I am still currently broke as shit), but hey... Will Smith wouldn't lie to me about quality. That guy punched an alien in the face, he knows what's up.



For some reason or another, I really wanted corned beef. I don't know why since I normally have unpleasant memories of my mom's fake Irish "corned beef and cabbage." Now when I looked at the menu, I had a choice to make... regular or special. Not knowing what "special" entailed, I took a $1 gamble that it really meant awesome... like the onscreen chemistry when Will Smith meets Kevin Kline for the first time in Wild Wild West. Now the upside of this sandwich is that it weighs about a pound. That's a lot of heft for a sandwich, and by all means constitutes a pretty decent meal. After weighing the size against the cost (pun-tastic), I didn't feel so bad about handing over $10+ for a sandwich.

Then I unwrapped it. The feeling I had when I realized what "special" constituted was probably not unlike the feeling Will Smith had when he stepped on set for filming and realized what a mistake signing on for Bad Boys II was. The word "special" actually meant that you got about a half pound of corn beef (great!) and another half pound of cole slaw and Russian dressing (not so great!). The sandwich was fine. It tasted like, well... a lot of Russian dressing and cole slaw. The meat was decently tender, and while there was a lot of it, it mostly gets drowned out in the overall equation by the sweetness of shredded cabbage + sauce. To say it was moist (and messy) would be an understatement. Was it disappointing? Yeah, a little bit... especially after the high praise the place has earned, but by no means is it awful. I don't think I'll be going back, but that's mostly because it's not my style...

*Disclaimer: this person does not exist... unless you actually believe I am acquainted to the character played on television by the ever effervescent Will Smith
Read more...

A tale of four pulled pork sandwiches (Big Apple BBQ)

I've realized what's limiting my potential as a blogger (and the potential of this blog) - I just don't care enough to write about new things as they happen. When I had my interview for Google, they ran through all the standard questions... what superpower would you choose if you could have any one? Time-space control. What's your favorite color? #ff0033. What Disney character would you be? That dude who nails Mulan. What's your greatest weakness? Without any second thoughts I blurted out "I'm kind of lazy, and I don't really do things in a timely fashion." Apparently that wasn't a deal breaker since I got the job, but I really wasn't lying. In case you haven't noticed, I'm writing this post well more than a week after the event actually happened... probably because no one's forcing me to write blog posts, but mostly the lazy thing. Whatever, I just want to talk about some kick-ass pulled pork sandwiches without the pressure of "being relevant."



For those unaware of what the Big Apple BBQ is, it's basically a weekend festival where a bunch of decidedly non-Jewish people descend on Madison Square Park to pollute the air with the fantastic scent of pigs and smoke. Basically a bunch of pit masters from all across the US come to pimp their shit and try to spread obesity to the population of greater-NYC. Brilliance with a hint of mesquite yo.



Just look at that guy. Not one fuck was given that day. All he wants to do is flame torch the shit out of his rack of ribs.

Seriously though, if that picture doesn't have you convinced that a festival revolving around consuming meats rubbed down with sauce is a brilliant thing (in theory as well as practice)... well, you're probably a vegetarian and don't care much for my opinion anyway. In any case, I'm going to start talking about pulling pork now.



Ahh, pulled pork from Big Bob Gibson's Bar-B-Q. If you asked me for the most trustworthy sounding name for someone who knew how to make pulled pork... it'd probably be someone who's named Big Bob. No joke. The pulled pork shoulder that he was pushing out was tender, moist, and had just a hint of smokiness. In sandwich form it feels like kind of a waste (I'm pretty sure by including a bun, it's easier to skimp on the meat), but it was a good sandwich to say the least. Initially I had the complaint that the flavor was a tad mild, that it either needed more sauce or more seasoning. I felt retarded after someone suggested I eat a bit of burnt edge by itself. I would trample a mob of senior citizens for just one more bite of that shit.



I got really excited when I came upon a group of Twilight fans who were roasting whole hogs. As much as you feel bad for Jacob, team Edward is where it's at. He's got that whole sparkly thing going for him. Then I got moderately disappointed when I realized that "Team Ed" actually stood for "Team Ed... Mitchell."



My sadness quickly faded when I got a hold of his whole hog pulled pork sandwich. With a solid 30-minute wait, I feel like his sandwich was slightly over-hyped. Maybe it's because I'm not in love with the vinegary taste of North Carolina barbecue, but it just wasn't as impressive as I thought it would be from others' accounts. Big Bob Gibson's pulled pork was definitely something of a high-water benchmark I used throughout the day, and obviously it's impossible to compare apples to oranges, but that first sandwich was probably too tough an act to follow for "Team Edward."

I have to admit, the hot sauce they had on hand was pretty dope (I forget what it was called if someone wants to chime in?)



Ubon's pulled pork was closer to what my mind thinks of in terms of "barbecue." It was similar in style to Big Bob's, but was coarser, less refined, and had a more distinct texture. While Bob's was moist and basically melted in your mouth (yes, apparently meats can melt in my head), Ubon's took a little bit more work to eat. In terms of flavor, it lacked the distinct charring and smokey aftertaste that Bob's had, but was heavily influenced by the sheer amount of sauce present. It was messy, but good in its own way.



And then there was one. Dinosaur Bar-B-Que is one that hits close to home for me. For years I used to steal the delivery from Dino BBQ that was sent to the adjacent lab to mine at Columbia. For years I would complain about how their wings "weren't as good" as advertised. To be honest I wasn't so ecstatic about paying $8 for a pulled pork sandwich that I could get at any given time (given its close proximity). In the end, I didn't feel like I wasted money. Their sandwich was a nice blend of subtle porcine flavor and just enough sauce to add a hint of tangy aftertaste. It wasn't mindblowingly incredible, but it also didn't fail me like their sorry excuses for wings have for years.



I also ate ribs... in case you were wondering. These were from 17th Street Bar and Grill, who came all the way out from Illinois. Their menu says their baby back ribs are "sprinkled with Magic Dust then slowly cooked in our pit with a combination of apple & cherry woods for 5 to 7 hours." I don't know what "Magic Dust" is, and I never want to find out. The mystery tastes delicious to me.

Anyway, I don't know where I'm going with all this... I really just wanted to talk about pork sandwiches. I think I've accomplished that so I'll stop now. Back to being lazy.
Read more...

Ghost pepper steak sandwich (Jake's Sandwich Board)

This is going to sound awful, but growing up my parents always told me I was kind of dumb. I guess every Asian parent does that to "motivate" their kids to work harder, but I think mine were actually serious. Admittedly, I am a kid who once ate five bowls of rice and proceeded to puke all over the table because I "didn't know I was full yet," so I guess I can't really blame 'em for calling me out on it. You'd think after 23 years of fulfilling life experiences, I'd have gotten even a little bit smarter, but then I go and do something dumb like eat four pounds of god-awful curry. Good news everyone! Nothing has changed, I am still eating like a dumbass champion! Basically I shove food in my mouth with zero regard for my own wellbeing. Case in point... Jake's Sandwich Board. A place that makes a ghost pepper laced steak sandwich.



Listen, you can't seriously put a "ghost pepper steak sandwich" on your menu and expect me not to be intrigued. That's basically the same thing as putting something on your menu called "are you a bitch?" I will not have my honor (which apparently to my demented self is the same thing as my mouth's threshold for pain) be insulted. Well Jake's... I called your bluff. Show me your worst. Make me cry with the swiftness of a coursing river and the force of a great typhoon... make my butt hole burn with the strength of a raging fire i.e. make a man out of me.



So what exactly goes into this magical sandwich with the capability of pulling a "Hiroshima" on my rectum? Well it starts innocent enough. Jake's does make a plain steak sandwich, called the "Jake," which just has steak, provolone, fried onions, and roasted peppers. If that's too tame for you, they have the "Fire Steak," an abomination that adds mushrooms and a house blend of "fire sauce" to the mix. Oh, and they fry the fuck out of the peppers. Then there's the "Ghost Pepper Steak." If you thought the "Fire Steak" sounds like child's play, then you should probably step up your game and go with this variant... which is the exact same thing, but with 20 drops of ghost chili extract added to the mix.

In my mind, 20 drops ain't shit. Even though they say that the ghost chili is 400 times hotter on the Scoville scale than a habanero, I quantified this as 8000 drops of hot sauce. In a moment that I am less than proud of... I once drank multiple bottles of hot sauce on a dare, so how bad could this be? My guess - not that bad. It's a good thing I'm not actually working as a chemical engineer, because apparently I learned nothing in college. Shit doesn't scale linearly. Ever. Scoville... what an asshole, getting me with his pseudo-science.



As I was shoved mouthful after mouthful of capsaicin doped steak in my mouth - with tears (very manly tears) streaming down my face - all I could think about was how dumb and painful this whole endeavor was. I just paid $9 for something that I wasn't even enjoying. To consider this from another point of view, I just paid an extra $2 to take something ridiculously delicious, a plain cheesesteak, and asked the guys behind the counter to turn it into a sandwich of pure pain. I felt like a dumbass. Want to know how it tasted? Basically you're chewing on fire flavored bread and beef. Now you're probably curious what fire tastes like? Like humiliation, that's what. When I shamefully walked to the counter to order a milkshake to quench my shame, the line cook asked me if I was crying. Not wanting to appear weak, I told him I was weeping because "it tasted too good." Deep down, he knew I was lying. I hate you sir, for exposing me in my moment of weakness.

As for the aftermath... know how rappers are always talking about their game and how they "spit fire?" Guess what? I'm not so impressed. I just did that with my asshole... and I wasn't even trying. Double the pain, double the pleasure I guess? I'm actually not sure which was worse, in or out. I should probably stop writing about exorcising my bowel demons now.



Now for that shake... it was actually the candied bacon milkshake they were advertising right below the ghost pepper steak sign. To be honest, it wasn't the greatest thing in the world. It was pretty thin and tasted mostly like plain vanilla ice cream, but when my tongue was screaming bloody murder, I would've paid any amount of money for it. The bacon bits are there for sure, but they kind of just coalesce at the base of the cup. I thought it was delicious and well worth $4 (when purchased with a sandwich), but that's probably a decision I made in the "heat of the moment." Shut up... I like puns.
Read more...